


Petey and Wade and the Day to Give all Thanks

by isaDanCurtisproduction



Series: Spideypool Holidares you to celebrate [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Autumn, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaDanCurtisproduction/pseuds/isaDanCurtisproduction
Summary: “Gobble, gobble, y’all,” Wade said as he burst through the front door, a delicious-smelling rotisserie chicken clutched in one hand and a spiral ham in the other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this, hah, super last-minute. I swear, 2 days ago I realized that Thanksgiving was a thing and, I had _promised_ myself to fill the Spideypool Holiday bingo card that I forced upon myself. So, here's this tiny little fluff. I hope you enjoy.

“Gobble, gobble, y’all,” Wade said as he burst through the front door, a delicious-smelling rotisserie chicken clutched in one hand and a spiral ham in the other. Peter looked up from the potatoes he was mashing into fluffy, little potato clouds with a fork. 

“Y’all?” Peter asked, setting the fork down. “Am I more than one person?”

“Shut up, I did it for the aesthetic.” Wade placed his hard-earned ham and his probably stolen rotisserie chicken on the kitchen counter.

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “You went southern for the aesthetic? What aesthetic?

“The _Thanksgiving_ aesthetic. _Duh!_ ”

Peter blinked. “I think your logic might be faulty.” He continued mashing the potatoes.

“Whatever,” Wade said with a shrug. He unwrapped the ham from its plastic dress and placed it on a platter he had stolen from the home of Justin Hammer. The rotisserie chicken he put on a microwave turn-table that he took unceremoniously from the microwave. Wade dropped both onto the dining room table carelessly.

Peter paused in his mashing again. He looked at the table where the ham and chicken were laying haphazardly on the table. Peter looked at the stove where a pan of from-the-can green beans and carrots simmered. He looked down at the mashed potatoes.

“You don’t seem too happy, Wade,” Peter said, and pointed at Wade with the fork. “Aren’t you excited to feast on this delicious thanksgiving…” he paused and then frowned when his vocab list failed him, “feast?”

Wade sighed and opened the fridge. He pulled out a corona and a light blue wine cooler. It was something Hawaiian themed. He tossed the corona to Peter who caught it and placed it on the counter unopened. “It just doesn’t feel much like thanksgiving,” Wade explained softly after a long pause.

Peter quirked his head to the side in thought. “Is it because of Aunt May?”

Wade’s lips twisted into a frown, looking oddly serious. He twisted off the top of the wine cooler and poured it into a pineapple-shaped mug that said, in twirling cursive, ‘Life’s a Bitch.’ 

“Wade?” Peter questioned when his fiance had taken too long to answer. Still Wade said nothing. “I know every Thanksgiving we’ve had together has been at her place, but just because she’s working this year doesn’t mean she loves you any less.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but Peter couldn’t help frowning a little because Wade hadn’t smiled at him, Wade was in fact still staring down into his wine cooler.

“I know that,” Wade scoffed. 

Peter stuck his fork in the potatoes and walked over to Wade. He ran a hand across Wade’s forehead as if brushing away strands of hair that Wade didn’t have. “Then what’s the problem?”

Wade sighed out and took a sip from his pineapple mug. “It’s just…” his shoulders slumped, “we’ve spent every holiday with her. She makes you _happy_ Peter. I know how much you love spending the holidays with her since you can’t see her too often.” Wade looked down at himself and then gave Peter a self-deprecating smile. “How can I live up to that? I can’t even cook a damned _turkey_.” He motioned to the table, to the ham and the chicken, with a sharp, slashing movement of the arm.

Peter blinked and then rested a calming hand in the crook of Wade’s elbow. 

“ _You_ know it isn’t about the food, Wade, it’s about celebrating what we’re thankful for. About being thankful for things.”

“Yeah,” Wade said dryly, “and I know that _you’re_ always thankful to be with May. Every year. We go around the table and whenever we get to you you always say, ‘I’m thankful for you, Aunt May,” and she giggles. Every. Year. Peter.” Wade rubbed a hand across his forehead, plunked the mug down on the counter behind him.

Peter smiled, if a little sadly. “It makes her giggle because it’s something I’ve said every single year since I moved in with her and Uncle Ben. It reminds her of when I was small and naïve…and small.”

Wade shifted a little guiltily. “Now I feel like a douche,” he said.

Peter chuckled a little. “No. You’re just jealous.”

Wade swatted at his fiancé. “Shut up.” 

“And do you know what I’m really grateful for?”

“Me?” Wade asked, a wry smile curling his lips.

“I was going to say Aunt May.”

Wade chortled. “I see who you really love.”

“You’re right, I do love her,” Peter grinned, “but I love you too. I love you so _much_ , Wade.”

He leaned back to scooped up a chunk of potato he’d been mashing and smeared it across Wade’s nose.

Wade giggled.

“And I’m also _really_ hungry,” Peter admitted. “If I promise to keep loving you, can we eat?”

Wade nodded emphatically before swooping down to swipe a kiss across Peter’s lips, leaving a smear of potato on Peter’s nose.

“Twinsies,” Wade sing-songed and then leaned down for another kiss before picking up his pineapple mug in one hand, and Peter’s mashed potatoes in the other, and led the way to the table.

Peter grabbed the vegetables off the stove and his corona. “This is going to be an awesome thanksgiving,” Peter said as he sat at the table, placing the pot of green beans and carrots on the table, un-caring of the possible damage to the wood.

“Yes it is,” Wade declared. He took a seat across from Peter and graced him with a loving smile. “Thank you.”


End file.
